


habits of my heart

by nebulyx



Series: our love was stronger than your pride [1]
Category: The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms
Genre: A self-indulgent sex worker au?, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, F/M, Multi, Past Abuse, Past Child Abuse, Sheik is not Zelda, Tags to be added, Zelda & Sheik as siblings, because it's in two parts and gets worse before it gets better, female Sheik, i cannot stress enough dead dove do not eat, i wrote this fic for me but y'all can read it, this does not have a happy ending
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-21
Updated: 2021-01-16
Packaged: 2021-03-03 05:42:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24299800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nebulyx/pseuds/nebulyx
Summary: No man in Castletown wanted to make their favorite whore a housewife.(Until he did.)
Relationships: Ganondorf/Sheik (Legend of Zelda)
Series: our love was stronger than your pride [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1754299
Comments: 2
Kudos: 7





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [StudioRat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/StudioRat/gifts).



> yeaaaaaah, i don't really have any notes for this one yet. I write Sheik as a biracial, femme-presenting nonbinary queer because that's my life experience. sex workers are wonderful and deserve all our love and support. shoutout to StudioRat for encouraging me to chase all my sensual dreams and write this nonsense as unapologetically as possible.

Life was not kind.

Sure, Sheik could look to the fact that she was born into privilege, her father descended from the last kings of Hyrule, the fact that she was able to go to a university and get her degree. She knew that her cards in life had been rather stacked, but that did not negate what she was subject to the whole time. Some wounds simply did not heal.

But she moved on. She had to.

When her father finally beat her and kicked her out for good, she had been lucky enough to have her old roommate nearby beforehand. Isha had stashed money, clothing, electronics, authorized copies of important documents – all the important things that an abused woman would need to make an escape, and some of the things that she would want once she finally made it out of the hellscape of her childhood home. The Geldo woman had stored them carefully and safely, and they both had to bide their time until the moment came. Escape without consequence.

After that…

Well, she had been busy the last five years. Aside from schooling, finishing her degree, there had been work. She had gotten an in through Isha, as well as the… somewhat dubious nature of her upbringing, and she fit well in Greta's speakeasy.

She didn’t really remember what prompted it. She had just been a waitress, really, picked up bartending shifts as needed if one of the other girls needed a break. But she was pretty. Sheikah were considered exotic in Castletown, and despite the softness of her half-Hylian features, shadow blood shone through the brightest.

His name was Pitar.

She gave hers as Sen. Traditional, common, inconspicuous enough to not mean anything.

That one night paid her rent for four months and kickstarted a career where her college education and degrees had not, but she was not one of the Club’s girls. Greta would gladly help her vet prospects, but the Club was not her brothel. Something about conflicts of interest, about Sheik’s lineage and most importantly their friendship. She didn’t ask too many questions, because it simply wasn’t their way to do so. Life with her father had taught her well enough not to.

So Sheik left the casual employment agreement she had at the speakeasy. She made her decisions after Greta had vetted them with her discerning eye and even more discerning contacts, and Sen made and saved her money after a slight kickback for the aid and all the taxes therein.

She had no debts, she lived comfortably below her means. To fill her time during the day, she took a pretty easy bookkeeping job at a family owned restaurant in Little Kakariko and eventually picked up the odd breakfast and lunch shifts before going on about her day and nights. It wasn’t much, but it was a routine she was happy keeping to. It gave her a solid group of people to feel comfortable with, if not people she was able to truly call her family. Commonplace. Routine.

So when it came time that routine was broken, she found herself shocked. It was a Wednesday when her phone rang.

The phone number was unlisted and probably not one that she had been called from before. She contemplated letting it ring, but seeing as it was her business number and not her personal cellphone presently buzzing at her elbow, she answered. Any of her regulars knew that she didn’t do unprompted phone calls.

“Hello, you’ve reached Sen. How can I help you?”

The accent on the other end sounded Geldo, though more as if they were from Great Bay, somewhere near the coast if not the city itself.

“Hello, Miss Sen. My name is Aveil,” they said, matter-of-fact and right to business. “My employer is highly interested in procuring your services and would like to arrange a meeting to discuss the details.”

“Pardon me?” the Sheikah asked, unsure if she had heard correctly.

“We have vetted you thoroughly-”

“If you’ve vetted me thoroughly, then you should know that I have very strict procedures in place, primarily for my safety rather than the discretion my clients prefer. By approaching me like this, you are going outside of those procedures. That is an almost immediate breach of boundaries and one of the first things to make me turn down a client.

“We are aware. This is a… special… circumstance.”

Special circumstance? The thought of dealing with someone so presumptuous made her roll her eyes, and then something foolish in her wondered what will happen if she humors them.

“Cafe Dotour, tomorrow at noon,” she told the person on the other end. “I’ll be wearing a red scarf with a navy coat. Be on time, or find your employer another girl.” Her tone left no room for argument.

“Understood.”

The line clicked, then went dead.

Staring at the phone in her hand, Sheik secretly hoped that there weren’t going to be cops involved, even if her profession was perfectly legal.

Still, she had no clients that night and had already worked her morning shift at the restaurant. Since she was taking the rest of the day, she might as well spend her time preparing. Greta was busy upon her first call, so she decided not to push it. Surely she would be scolded for her movement on this, but she was going into this for a reason.

She just wasn’t sure of that reason yet.

  
  
  
The next morning, Sheik got ready as she usually did before meeting a client. She shaved, used the chamomile lotion that she liked, and put on a nude, matte makeup look that she favored on her days off. It made her look like she was trying without too much effort, giving her a glow that men liked to think was all natural. Her pants were dark navy like the coat she told them she would be wearing, her shirt a cream colored tunic tucked into them, the well-fit sailor’s coat over that.

Leaving her hair down, the Sheikah pulled it from under her collar and scarf, giving herself one last appraisal in the full-length mirror before deciding that was enough. Taser and keys taken from their place by her door and tucked into her pocket, Sheik triple checked her locks and then made her way down.

It was raining when she woke up that morning, and as she descended to the street in Little Kakariko, all that remained of it was the puddles on the ground. She hoped that she wouldn’t need an umbrella on her way back, even though she could get a rideshare. She simply preferred to walk when she was able.

Sheik waved to the familiar faces here and there as she passed, sparing warm smiles where she could and avoiding questions otherwise. Most of the Sheikah in Little Kakariko knew each other by name, knew to look out for each other. Hylian racism in the city was disproportionate; they were just trying to keep their communities and the people therein as save as they could. Sheik was newly returned, and most of her neighbors were respectful of her need for privacy, but some of the grannies in the neighborhood were just so nosy. It was always something about did she have a partner, was she planning to get married and get out of Castletown while she was still young, had she any plans for her future? It also always came back to her hypothetical husband.

It made her want to laugh hysterically.

No man in Castletown wanted to make their favorite whore a housewife. It was a reality that she had long since accepted. She didn’t want to be one anyway. She had too many opinions to be docile and compliant, especially to a Hylian that needed her to teach him how sex was meant to feel, gods forbid _love._

  
  


The clouds had begun to grow fatter and darker by the time the Sheikah made it to Cafe Dotour. It was nice enough. Sheik had never gotten coffee there, spoiled for good Gerudo brew by Isha while they were still living together, but they had the best hot cocoa this side of Castletown. There was just something delightfully lovely about dark chocolate and smoke.

The bell tinkled merrily overhead as she entered, her red eyes sweeping the busy room. They fell on her contact immediately. She was pretty. Beautiful, even. All Gerudo were, but this one in particular. Her jewelry was startling, green gems bright against her skin and flaming hair. Diverse as Cafe Dotour liked to make itself seem, especially for how close it was to the university, Sheik’s cursory glance told her that this was without a doubt the woman she was meant to be meeting. Gerudo were rare in the city.

Where she normally might have bypassed whoever she was meeting in favor of ordering a drink, Sheik was not going to do that here. No, the proper way to handle this situation was not to play coy.

“You’re early. And that’s impressive, because I’m early,” she remarked, pulling the chair from across the woman and fixing her loose pants as she sat.

“You requested that we be prompt,” the Gerudo replied, and hearing her in person, her curt tone absolutely sang the song of the waves at Great Bay. She extended a minimally jeweled yet expertly manicured hand. “Aveil. We spoke over the phone.”

“Sen,” the Sheikah replied, shaking her hand. The grip was firm, but not crushing and unpleasant, a sign that the young woman made note of. “This is unorthodox.”

Aveil didn’t look bothered by that at all, and Sheik would be lying if she said it didn’t grate a little bit. Time was money, and they were now wasting both.

“My employer is-”

“The person interested in procuring my services, and thus the person who should be speaking to me this moment.” The words were short, edged in before the dark-skinned woman could utter another word.

“Miss-”

“Just Sen will suffice.” There was no room for argument.

“Sen,” Aveil amended, bowing her head slightly with something akin to respect. “My employer is an important man, and a very busy one-”

“Shame. If you looked me up, you would know that my requirements are very clear. You’re wasting my time with this, and your employer’s as well.”

The bell over the door chimed once more, and before Sheik could react, Aveil was standing, excusing herself to meet the man at the door. Their conversation appeared terse, as if Aveil was briefing him. Sheik, in the meantime, had turned to watch them. For starters, the woman was tall, but the man dwarfed her by almost a foot.

He was beautiful.

Perhaps it was just that she had grown bored of Hylians. She didn’t want to exotify the man, hating when clients and otherwise did so to her, but he was different, and it was refreshing. His skin was dark, smooth, his beard neatly groomed and in a style that suited his strong face. In trueborn Geldo fashion, his hair was that same vibrant, fiery red, and from the intricacy of the braids, she could tell that it was long. Hell and Hylia, it was probably much more beautiful when it was down.

From their distance, she couldn’t tell if his eyes were the same pretty gold as Isha’s, but when he glanced at her, they pierced her right through the gut.

Greta was going to be furious with her for running this one solo without letting her scope it out first.

Sheik politely turned her gaze away, listening to the din of the high end cafe. There were students working on theses, a young mother feeding sweet pumpkin bread to her little ones, sweet Hylian babies with raven curls. The place was bursting with life.

The bell rang over the door again, a cool breeze and the pattering of rain rushing in over the sounds of conversation. She didn’t look, but couldn’t help the slight tilt of her head as the man sat across from her.

His eyes were molten gold, like the Goddess of Sands had poured sunlight into a man. Hell and _Hylia_ , she wanted to drink him down, but this was about business.

“There’s a fee for being late to meetings. Your people didn’t do their research well, I don’t tolerate tardiness,” Sheik told him, testing his reaction.

“Well, I hope you’re keeping a tally. Add it to your hourly rate, we have terms to discuss,” he replied, the slightest of smirks touching his lips.

The Sheikah snorted. “A lapsang hot cocoa, for starters. Then we talk business.”

He hummed, a light thing, and her red eyes followed him the whole way to the counter. There was something familiar about his frame, his gait, but she couldn’t place where or why. It happened often; she had her regulars, but she did see her fair share of men in a month, and women and otherwise as well.

Gods, she should have messaged Greta first.

There were three people in line in front of him, which gave her the time to grab her phone from her pocket, sending a text to the favorited number at the top of her list.

_Prospective client. Contact through a contact, called themself Aveil. No name._

Usually there was more detail, but in this case, there wasn’t anything, just a face and ethnicity.

A text bubble popped up then disappeared and didn’t return, and with one order before her prospective client returned, the Sheikah stowed her phone again.

“Lapsang hot cocoa?” he clarified, setting the paper cup in front of her. He had his own cup in hand, which made her raise a brow as she watched him sit again.

“Spiced chai, one shot of espresso with the… Zokassa Espresso?”

“Clever, you. It’s the Oseira, actually,” he replied. “Hopefully it doesn’t disappoint.”

“They’ll remake it if you’re disappointed in it,” Sheik said, taking their cup in both hands. “They’re very committed to making sure they provide... satisfying service.”

Her insinuation did not go unmissed, bringing a smile to his lips.

“We’ve not been properly introduced. You may call me Gan.”

“Sen,” she replied, and found that she liked the feel of his firm hand in hers. “Usually people don’t send a middlewoman.”

He made that contemplative humming sound again, taking a sip of the chai and clearing his throat. “There is no excuse for that, and I offer you my sincerest apologies.”

“Actions will speak louder,” she sing-songed with a small, polite smile.

“That they do, Sen. Your contracts are available by request, yes? I will personally make sure to comply with your requirements as soon as I leave here.”

Sheik took a sip of her own drink, grateful for the smoked chocolate flavor. “Am I correct in assuming that you have contractual negotiations for me as well, and that’s why this meeting is happening?”

“That is the idea, yes.”

“But?”

“As I said, I’ve overstepped and disrespected you. I’d like to remedy that before attempting to go any further. You have yet to vet me properly because of that, which is unfair to you. If you decide I am to your caliber of client, we can discuss any terms I may have once yours are settled first.”

Sheik rolled the cup in her hands, ears tipping downward not quite in discomfort, but more in contemplation and thought. All the while, her eyes didn’t leave his face, taking in the piercing nature of his eyes, the breadth of his nose and the way the contour of it suited his face just so. For all the neatness about him, from the way his hair was braided back to the way his tailored clothing fit his massive frame, there was something inherently powerful about his presence. Sheik didn’t feel intimidated at all, more intrigued than anything.

Ending the staring contest, she nodded, wary still but a bit more sure. “I reserve the right to end this agreement at any moment. I have it in writing in the contracts you sign during the vetting process, but with you here right now, I want to voice that verbally. If I want out, that’s it. No further contact, physical or otherwise.”

Gan was quiet a moment, as if debating what to say in response, but finally found something to latch onto. “I understand, and should it come to that, I will respect your decision to cut all contact. I do hope that it doesn’t come to that. You weren’t an easy woman to find with as little information as we had.”

She moved to stand. “My safety is-”

“Paramount, yes,” he interjected, standing carefully from his chair and offering her his hand.

She eyed it for a moment before slipping her notably smaller one into it, allowing him to help her to her feet. The phone buzzing in her pocket brought her mind down to earth and away from floating at the warmth of his hand in hers. The life in the cafe continued on around them as they made for the door, the Gerudo man a few paces behind. The smell of the fresh rain hit her, keeping her alert.

“It was nice to meet you, Gan,” she told him with a smile, hands wrapped around her coffee cup. “I look forward to seeing where our partnership might go.”

“You as well,” he replied, the slightest of twitches at the corner of his lips. The ghost of a smile, perhaps? “Could I call you a car? It seems as though it’s not going to stop raining any time soon.”

Her phone buzzed again, a reminder of the message that she had yet to look at. “Oh, no, thank you. I had something come up just before you arrived, and it’s near enough to walk.”

The look on his face was pinched, as if torn between asking if she was sure and insisting anyway, but he said nothing and nodded as he stepped away. His car was there in moments, and Sheik found herself trying not to feel so flushed at the lingering look that he gave her before the door closed, the tinted window separating them.

Waiting until the sleek black SUV had pulled away, the Sheikah carefully pulled her phone from her pocket. The push notification was Greta, a missed call that had been immediately hung up as soon as it connected on her end.

“Shit.”

Looking up to make sure that the car was truly gone, she turned, making her way to the speakeasy, fully prepared to be harshly reprimanded almost entirely in Gerudo. It was the worst when she got it from Greta. At least Isha yelled when she was upset. Greta simply got quiet, and that was how Sheik knew that she had worried her friend.

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the drink that sheik mentions is actually a drink you can get at a cafe in seattle and it's life changing. there's no update schedule and this is unapologetically sexy because i'm exploring fantasy in a safe setting. thanks for reading!


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning: widespread corruption, racism, discussions of organized crime, allusions to past consensual knife play, allusions to historical abuse by a bigoted parent, discussions of the military industrial complex and its impact on foreign nations, allusions to war-related trauma and ptsd.  
> Strap in for another six month hiatus after this one, lads.  
> Thank you to StudioRat for letting me borrow your conlang.

True to form, the look on Greta’s face as Sheik entered her office spoke of trouble.

“Why is it  _ always _ you?”

“Lucky, I guess,” the Sheikah replied, carefully untying her scarf as she approached the chair opposite the ornate wooden desk.

“Sa’ikhusa, you have shit luck,” the procurer sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose.

Sheik huffed a small sound, not quite a laugh. The Gerudo woman was not wrong about that, that much was certain.

“Do you know what you’re doing?” Greta asked _sotto voce_ , genuinely concerned. If Sheik didn’t know better, she might say that it was almost pained. Her stomach dropped like a rock at the intonation, the heavy coat folded and hung from the back of the chair.

“I didn’t  _ seek them out _ , Greta. They came to me.” Sheik sat, leaning her forearms against the desk. 

That seemed to make her confidante unwind a bit, but only just. “The woman you spoke with on first contact? Aveil?”

“That was the name that I was given, yes.”

“She’s a Roc, Sheik.”

“Oh.” That explained a few things. She sat back, the shock evident in the action. “Well. Shit.” 

“ _ Well shit, _ indeed,” the Gerudo echoed, mirroring the way that the Sheikah sat back. “I knew how you grew up from what you and Isha have said, that you know how the Lords work and how they run this city- this  _ country _ -, but how much do you really know about the man that they call the Demon King?”

Sheik made a face, puffing up her cheeks before letting out the breath, a childish indicator of her thoughts buffering that she had yet to shake in all her years of life. “Just the bits and pieces I’ve picked up at the bar, around Little Kara Kara, or from Sooga. Not much older than us, made a quick climb to the top among the Geldo syndicates, often using and encouraging particularly brutal methods, though that much I’m not certain on, since it reeks of Hylian Lord propaganda against a viable competitor that they want to paint to be an enemy of themselves, if not the State. From the motherland, studied in Hyrule proper, using the means he’s acquired to protect his people where he can, since Hylians don’t make that easy for anyone who isn’t one of them. Rackets appear to include protection, imports, smuggling and fencing. I don’t know anything about  _ him _ . Just reputation and the glowing opinions of mutual acquaintances. It’s the first time I’ve had a face to go with the name.”

Greta remained quiet for a long moment, clearly weighing her words carefully. “He is a good man. I can tell you that much. He’s where he is for us, not out of greed.”

Sheik gestured in the air between them, trying to encourage her to continue.

“He is still trouble that you do not need.”

“Need I remind you of Ghirahim?”

Greta made a face of distaste. “Ghirahim is-”

“-  _ was- _ ”

“ _ Is _ a bondage-loving freak of a Dom with a rapier fetish, but his surroundings are relatively harmless. Rajena is very different. You have to be sure about this.”

The Sheikah’s dark red eyes wandered then to the heavy woven tapestries on the walls, the smooth wood furnishings and how the antique lantern light danced over them all.

“He hasn’t submitted his background check yet. The Roc… she called me before there was any professional communication.”

Greta’s weighted silence returned momentarily. “Did he insinuate that he was going to go through your process?”

“Insisted he was going to as soon as possible,” she told her friend, making eye contact once more. “Unusual?”

“Ganondorf Dragmire is a very private man.”

“I find that very private men are often the loneliest in this line of work. Until proven otherwise, we treat him like any of the others. He’s just a man in want of high end companionship with the rupees to pay for it, no matter who he is.”

Greta made another face that Sheik knew all too well, one that conveyed all of the elder sister scolding that she never spoke aloud. “If I were your madam, I wouldn’t allow this.”

The Sheikah grinned. “You burnt that bridge years ago, dear. Call me when you’re done with the packet for me to review?”

Her confidence was met with an eyeroll and what the other would never admit was the slightest of endeared smiles.

  
  
  


By the time she returned home for good that evening, arms laden with groceries, her face felt sticky from rain, makeup and setting spray having long worn out its welcome. It was later than anticipated, but she at least had time to wash her face before setting out to make dinner with her brother.

Link was so far away still, working in the borderlands of where Gerudo met Hyrule. Sheik wouldn’t be surprised if he simply never came home, but the community that he was in now was actually one he was able to make stable video calls from, as opposed to relying on satellite from the middle of the desert to try and leave a voicemail. Logically, she knew that his being posted closer to the home front meant that his time away was probably coming to its end. She didn’t doubt that he would be going back to Faron with the knowledge he had gained through training under Bolson Construction, or to Ordona even. Though they had both grown up in Hyrule proper, they had always, always talked about going home once they were old enough and had the resources. 

He’d surely make it before she did. She envied him for it, in an oddly accepting way. He’d left home so early to avoid the abuse, joined the military, regretted it, and had since spent his time in architecture and carpentry trying to help rebuild the places ravaged in his youth; out of anyone she knew from her youth, Link deserved peace more than most.

Pity that she wasn’t in a position yet where she could add to that peace. 

Checking the time on her phone, the Sheikah woman hurried into her bedroom, shedding her damp clothes as soon as she was inside. The elegant outfit that she wore was draped over the chair at her vanity, traded for loose fitting pajama pants, tank top, and a knit cardigan. By the time she had finished washing her face, her freckled glory on display, she could hear the Proxi client on her laptop chiming its familiar chime. First thing was first, she needed to open one of her apartment’s windows.

The sound of the driving downpour, the kind that seemed as though it was falling to drown Hyrule for its sins, was not loud enough that it would make hearing her brother too difficult, mostly serving as comforting white noise in the background. Scooping her laptop up from where it rested on her coffee table, she tapped the answer button, carrying it to the kitchen with her. It went down in its usual place, out of heat and splash range next to her stovetop. The window buffered a moment before connecting to the sight of Link’s bright, mischievous grin.

“Hey, you!”

Sheik grinned, hands coming up to throw her hair back in a messy bun. “Hey back. How’s the desert treating you?”

“More of the same, really. I’m gonna come home darker than you at this rate.” The camera shifted, appearing as though Link was moving his computer.

“I don’t doubt it. It’s been very overcast here the last couple of months, I’m starting to pale again,” she replied, stepping away from the computer to begin rifling through her grocery bags. Some of the items inside were just things that she kept around the house and needed to refresh, where some of them were fresh ingredients that she needed for making dinner with her brother. Over the rustle of fabric, she could hear the sound of a fridge opening on the other side.

Putting everything but the hydromelon and voltfruit into the fridge, she settled into the familiar and comfortable routine of meal preparation, maintaining pleasant conversation with her brother about the people he had seen recently, friends he’d visited in the city the last time he’d gone in, talks about Sheik’s latest addition to the house back on Outset and how much more structural work the place might need overall. 

It was as her duck fried rice was cooling enough that it wouldn’t burn her mouth that her eyes drifted to the voltfruit. It was inevitable that her mind would be drawn back to Dragmire, not just because of the fruit; her big brother was currently traipsing around his homeland. 

She hadn’t realized just how deep in thought she had fallen until she started at the sound of her brother loudly calling her name.

“Pardon?”

Link smiled at her from his side of the screen, the expression and his blue eyes warm and fond, steam from his bowl rising in front of his face. “I asked if you were feeling okay. You seem absent tonight.”

Sheik smiled, the faintest uptick of her lips. Nodded. Force of habit response, and they both knew it. “I’m okay. Work on the mind.”

That was not something that he wanted to hear, and she could tell from the dark look that came over his face.

“Don’t.  _ Don’t _ \- It’s nothing-“

“It’s never  _ nothing _ , Sheik-“ he countered.

“It  _ is _ nothing.” She cut in, tone sharp and speaking over him. “I have a potential new client and I- I know you want me to be doing anything but this, Link, I  _ know.  _ I just have a lot to think about, okay?”

His face retained the pinched expression. “Are you still-“

“Thinking about getting out of Hyrule?” Sheik nodded for real this time, pushing loose baby hairs out of her eyes. “Yeah. Almost made it to all of my goals, probably a couple years out from finally shutting down, packing up, and disappearing.” What she didn’t tell him was that if this tentative contract with Dragmire worked out, she’d probably be able to leave the country far sooner than a nebulous couple of years. She didn’t particularly want to get into the specifics of that - partly due to the privacy that she afforded her clients, and partly because her brother would lose his ever-loving mind if he knew that some of her more recent bedfellows were considered gangsters and criminals by polite society.

… Whatever the hell  _ that _ meant.

She also did not feel like arguing the point that they had been raised -a word here used _very_ lightly- by one of those aforementioned criminals. The only reason why people didn’t think that about Daphnes Nohansen was because he was Hylian, and a blue blood at that with tendrils reaching into most places in Hyrule.

Blessedly, Link changed the subject. “How’s everyone back home? Impa, Purah, Zelda-“

“Aunt Impa is doing well, Mum is fine, they’re both helping to mind the island since the bridge washed out again. Zelda and I don’t talk anymore, and you know it.”

His ears downturned at this and he sighed a sound that Sheik had long since referred to as the Long-Suffering Big Brother Noise. “You know she doesn’t mean-“

“You don’t know what she does and doesn’t mean, Link.” Her tone pleaded with him to leave it alone.

He put his hands up in surrender, pointed ears further drooping in deference to his younger sibling. Sheik knew him, though, and so she knew damn well that wasn’t the end of it.

She picked up her still too-warm bowl, simply for something to do with her nervous hands. “How’s the earthquake cleanup treating you?”

“Easier without Hylian military breathing down our necks,” he admitted with the grace that only a former soldier could. “Aside from a couple of minor casualties, couple of lost cattle, everyone is doing okay. The elders were telling stories, talking about offerings to appease the creature that causes earthquakes. I think they called it a molduga? It’s… nice, this kind of community. Once Hyrule is out, I don’t have any doubts that they’ll thrive well and properly.”

“What’s your plan for the day that happens?” Sheik asked, rolling the hot ceramic in her palms. They hadn’t talked much about it, mostly because his past as a higher ranking soldier in the very military he now deemed a terroristic and colonialist force that had no business wielding the power it did was something that would forever haunt him.

“Doesn’t seem like it’ll ever end some days,” he admitted, and she understood the further depth of the sentiment without him having to go much further. “Hey, who knows? Maybe Outset will have an opening for ferryman. Then I can go home with you!”

She made an exaggerated sound of disgust, rolling her eyes and grabbing for a clean pair of chopsticks. Link barked a wolfish laugh, grinning the maniacal grin of a shitheel who had gotten exactly the response that he wanted.

“I’m so tired of you.”

“You love me.”

Sheik squinted slightly at the bold -if true- assertion. “Sounds contagious. I’ll have a doctor look into that.”

The barb did not stop him laughing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now back to trying to finish chapter three! Thanks for reading!


End file.
